I'd meant to post about Max yesterday. We had a good morning. He earned a sticker for getting dressed quickly. He was relatively cheerful and cooperative about getting ready for school. We chatted and sang amicably on the way to school. After school, I took him to Target where he'd been dying to go to spend some allowance money. He picked out a few things and then tagged along for a quick grocery store stop with me. It was all more or less pleasant. Nothing worse than typical little kid stuff. You know - forgetting things, jumping all around, making incredibly lame jokes, a little whining about the grocery store - that sort of thing.
This morning, he woke up and stuffed his new Lego car down his undies to try to smuggle it to school. The school has a no toy policy. I could care less about carrying a toy around, but choose to follow the school's rule on this. Perhaps I shouldn't. They don't actually seem to care, regardless of the policy, but I digress. Back to the car in the undies.
After our love you rhyme and book, we come into the kitchen/dinning room and Max starts to get dressed. I, being a savvy mom, had realized what he'd done with the car and I told him, "Max, remove the car from your underwear."
"The car?"
"Yes, the car, remove it from your underwear."
"Why are you looking at me?!?!?!?"
"Max. The car."
"Why are you looking at me?!?!?!? Why are you looking at me?!?!?!"
I went over and removed the car myself. He stood there and let the time run down on his getting dressed timer. I mentioned that I didn't really care if he went to school in his undies and pj top. He yelled at me to "just stop it!" Then he got dressed.
He didn't have time for his sweatshirt and tried to still get to wear it by throwing it on top of his coat. I told him that, as it wasn't his coat and it wasn't on, it wasn't going to school. I went to put it back into the blue bin. He blocked my path, then threw himself on top of the blue bin to prevent my putting the sweatshirt in it. I told him to have a seat on his bottom. He didn't. I counted. He still didn't.
I led him out to stand by the front door while I took care of the sweatshirt. He yelled over and over, "I hate you! You're a stupid Mommy!"
I discovered that, rather than take care of his dirty clothes, he'd shoved them into the blue bin.
I went to get him and he'd wrapped his chain necklace around the front door knob and was pulling, so I went to take it and put it in the black box. "It's mine!!!! I needed it for the party!!!!!" Then he hauled off and hit me. Yeah. It's been a while. Especially for a full no hiding it assault like that. Cocked his hand back and hit me right in the chest. Hard.
I said, "Oh, Max" and escorted him to his room.
After a few minutes, I went to let him know he could come out and eat his breakfast and that I was starting the timer for when breakfast ends. After a little bit, he came out and started eating his grapes. We always do a fruit first and then whatever else - cereal, toast with peanut butter, dinner leftovers, whatever.
I let him know that the things there were conflicts over today plus the stuff that was in the blue bin and shouldn't have been would all be going into the black box. He let me know that was no big deal because he only needs two more stickers anyway.
I also let him know that, due to the name calling and hitting, there would be an early bedtime tonight. That means he can't go to the dress rehearsal of a play I was going to take both kids to tonight.
He listened impassively. He opted not to finish his grapes - opted not to even eat up until the time limit. Then we were off to school. I got him up there and didn't yell or do anything aggressive. Victory for me.
I even told him when I turned to walk away that I hoped he had a good day and that I still loved him even though I was very angry.
I wish it didn't have to be so hard.
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